Falling from grace
by UnluckyAmulet
Summary: The children of heroes may not appreciate being labelled as such. Drabble compilations. Introspective. Joint winner on the Lucky Star 'Next Generation' challenge.
1. Rose

Disclaimer:Because I am not J.K. Rowling, I do not own Harry Potter.

I haven't written a HP fic in AGES, which is odd, because you'd think the final film would have been an endless source of inspiration, but I kinda entered a Harry Potter Withdrawal where I stopped thinking about it for a while.

This idea came to me whilst reading several fics based around the new generation, and it got me thinking: In the HP universe, there seems to be a recurring theme of children/siblings being overshadowed by their parents/siblings, and it seems unlikely that the protagonists kids get off any easier. It's going to be a pretty odd upbringing to have famous parents, after all. Hence, this'll be a pretty angsty fic at times, but I'll try not to make it TOO doom and gloom. Not particularly a pairing fic (since most people in it are COUSINS.) I decided to do Rose Weasley first, I'll get around to everyone else later. Feel free to let me know which person you'd prefer me to do next. :)

Enjoy!

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><p>Her parents said named her Rose because they knew that she would grow into something beautiful, into somebody who was amazing. Rose always wanted to ask them how they could possibly know something like that, just by looking at her.<p>

Maybe they only knew it because they were her parents.

_If you're not a Gryffindor, we'll disown you. But no pressure._

Of course. The daughter of a Weasley couldn't possibly be anything else, right? All Weasleys were courageous and would die for their friends, wasn't her father testament to that? Her uncle, her aunt, her whole family? Even mum was a Gryffindor, and she stood along with Dad and Uncle Harry as a Wizarding legend. Harry Potter. Ron Weasley. Hermione Granger.

It wasn't _fair._

Roses were the flowers of love, everybody knew that. Rose wondered if her parents had bore that in mind when naming her as well, as some kind of living testament to their relationship, but she doubted if her father was particularly interested in the etymology of her name, and her mother generally took a practical approach to these things.

And already, before she'd even started school, her parents were already, albeit unintentionally, telling her who she should be. Who to befriend. Where to go. It made her simmer with resentment. She loved her parents, she did, but there were times when she hated being Rose Weasley.

_Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank god you inherited your mother's brains._

Dad probably thought he was being funny, but Rose didn't. She was a bright girl, but she had no interest in being exactly like her mother had been, studying religiously for every single test, doing homework weeks before it was due, going into a catatonic panic every single time she failed to answer a question. She wanted to learn, certainly, because she was curious about the new world that was about to open up to her, but she didn't want to be "The Smart Girl" and have done with it. As for Scorpius Malfoy, she didn't even _know_him. Certainly not enough to consider him a nemesis.

Rose watched silently as the platform vanished from sight, and then followed along after the Potter children to an empty compartment, lost in thought. She sat down, Albus and James' bickering becoming background noise to her. She was used to it- she had grown up with them, after all.

Everyone wanted a new generation of heroes. James, Albus, Lily. Herself and Hugo. Lorcan and Lysander. Victoire, Dominique and Louis. Lucy and Molly. Roxanne and Fred.

Rose stared out at the countryside as it blurred by, taking comfort in the rhythmic puffing of the train. It was almost as if it was breathing, like she was riding in the belly of a friendly dragon. The air was buzzing with conversation, but she could feel the excitement in the air from all the other first years, tangible as fresh paint.

"You know, Al, green would suit you." James was saying, with a little smirk in Albus' direction. "Really would bring out _the color of your eyes_."

He said the last part in a mocking, sing-song voice, as he knew that it embarrassed Al when strangers gushed about his inheritance of the famous Potter eyes, but Rose could hear the jealousy behind the teasing. Despite being Harry Potter's firstborn son, James wants _everything_about him to be special and he hates it when he thinks he's not the center of attention. Especially when he feels like he's being upstaged by his little brother.

"Shut up!" Albus whined, wanting to be able to curse his brother so his lips sealed shut. Or maybe vanish into the ground. Either one of them would do, really. He wasn't brave like James was, and Rose knew he hated himself for that.

Rose Weasley was a clever girl. And she knew that if she followed along with her father's jokey warning, then the rest of her school career might as well be written down now just to save time. Everyone would expect the daughter of Hermione Granger to be the smartest girl in the year, the best mind to enter Gryffindor since her mother had before her. The other houses may feel the same way, but Ravenclaws were _all_ clever, so she wouldn't stand out as being just "the smart girl". Hufflepuff may be a nice change of place- less competitive, somehow. You can't very well have a contest to see who is the most loyal, after all. As for Slytherin, Rose found that, despite the stigma that was still attached to the House to this day, she found herself being intrigued by it as well as anxious. Who ever heard of a _Weasley_ being in _Slytherin?_

So when Rose sat upon the stool and had the Hat lowered onto her head, she knew exactly what she wanted.

_Another Weasley, hm?_

_That's right._

_You seem angry about that._

_I am. I'm sick of being defined by who my parents are. I don't want to be defined by the past. I want the future._

_Well, you certainly aren't wanting for ambition, Rose Weasley. And there's a great deal of intelligence...a strong sense of who you are._

_You can see inside my head._

_Rose told the Hat. And a great Wizard once said, it's the choices we make that define who are. You know where I don't want to be._

_Indeed. Well, then..._

And the Hat's stitched mouth opened, and cried out;

"RAVENCLAW!"

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><p>I had something angstier planned for this, originally, but I think it works out nicely here.<p>

If you have time, please review.


	2. Teddy Lupin

Hello again! I had a hard time deciding whether to post this chapter here or as a seperate story, but in the end I thought it was more fitting in this particular fic.

This chapter is based on Teddy Lupin, as requested by **Hawkstrike**. Some Teddy x Victoire. Honestly, I see a lot of Teddy x Lily fics, and it baffles me. He's nineteen by the end of DH and she's _ten. _Ah well, each there own and so forth.

Enjoy!

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><p>He hates it when people tell him he looks like his parents.<p>

It's meant as a compliment. But to him it feels like a dig, sharp as a needle being jabbed into his skin. But he smiles all the same, and usually they'll change the subject or let it pass without further comment.

Teddy Lupin, the prankster, the maverick, doesn't have scars. And he likes to keep it that way.

Truthfully, his metamorphmagus powers are both a blessing and a curse. It's easy to see why they're a blessing- after all, who wouldn't want to be able to change how they looked every now and then? Teddy changes his appearance so often that sometimes it's like there are ten different versions of him. He can be anybody he wants.

But sometimes, he's so busy wearing somebody else's face, shocking those around him with an outlandish new hair colour, that sometimes he forgets what he looks like underneath it all.

He tells himself he doesn't care.

But when he's alone, he lets himself just _be_for a while. He doesn't like to say "be himself", because even at the age of nineteen, he still doesn't really know himself.

He gets a shock when he looks in the mirror sometimes and sees a dark-haired young man with teeth that are a little too pointed and silver-grey eyes that, if you look closely, are flecked with yellow. Even when he changes his eye-colour, he swears that he can still see the minute slivers of gold.

He is a little mysterious, even to his closest friends. He lets people see what he wants them to see, not what's really there. Most people fall for it.

_She_ doesn't.

Teddy doesn't know if it's because of her Veela heritage, whether it's taught her something about appearances only being skin-deep, because Victoire is so pretty that it makes his chest ache to look at her. He wonders if it's hard for her, being noticed only for her looks and having a name like that, _Victory_, like a living testament to the past.

As a practiced mask-wearer himself, he notices little things about Victoire Weasley, things that not everybody else notices. Her mouth always tightens slightly, her eyes become a little glassy when she is speaking to people she doesn't like. How when she talks, her face lights up and her eyes shine brightly. She's very quiet- although it's not a demure, shrinking-violet shyness. It's this watchfulness, like she's waiting for something, and she has a way of looking at Teddy and he knows exactly what she means, without having to say a word.

_I can see right through you, Teddy Lupin._

And that's what he's afraid of.

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><p>Sometimes, he feels guilty.<p>

Teddy visits Harry's house so many times, and he often thinks of Grandmother sitting alone in their small house, trying not to think of the memories that hover in every dark corner, like shadows. But when he asks her if she wants to come, she usually declines and should he offer to stay, she shakes her head and gives him that bittersweet smile and tells him, _No, you go. Have a good time. Give my best to them._

Teddy likes the bright, constant energy of his godfather's house. James, Al and Lily all cluster around him, squealing his name over and over again; _TeddyTeddyTeddyTeddy! _He feels comfortable in crowded places, and he likes to sit and let the noise and chaos of everything wash over him, living each moment as it comes along.

But even though he loves being a small part of their family, he's jealous. He's so jealous that it makes him feel sick. Why was it his parents and grandfather who had to die, leaving him and grandmother all alone? Why does he always feel like an outsider, like a flashy entertainer? He's a liar, he's a fake, he's pretending, but really he doesn't know what he is, who he is- so he puts on a smile and lets everybody think he's just Teddy Lupin, trickster, somebody who doesn't have a care in the world. Somebody who isn't in pain.

But then, isn't that what he wants everyone to believe?

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><p>An angstier chapter then the last one, but I think Teddy's overall character has reason to be, to be honest.<p>

Once again, reviews are love. :)


	3. Lily Luna Potter

Greetings!

This chapter came out later then I intended...mostly because it took an age to decide on which character to write. XD I eventually settled on Lily L. Potter. In quite a lot of New-Gen stories, she tends to fulfill the Fiery Redhead role, and honestly I find it a bit predictable. Probably likely, but predictable. So here's the inner mechanisms of her. She proved kind of hard to write- Ginny and Lily Potter aren't really characters I'm very fond of, but I kind of like this. A special thanks to the Lucky Star forum.

Enjoy!

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><p>Harry Potter's daughter was named after her grandmother, the woman who protected her son, whom she loved so much, from beyond the grave. Lily Potter.<p>

Lily Potter was perfect.

Lily Luna Potter is not.

The truth is, she hates the fact that she was named after her grandmother, whom she is nothing like.

People remember Lily Potter fondly because she died a hero- she died to save her son, and people only ever have good things to say about her. The dead never do anything wrong. Only the living screw things up.

Sometimes, Lily wishes she could meet her Aunt Petunia. It seems like a ridiculous thing to want, considering how much Lily and her brothers dread visiting their Uncle Dudley and his family. The stories she has gleaned about her father's past are very rarely cheerful, and Harry himself rarely speaks of it.

But Lily can't help but think that Petunia isn't someone to be hated, but to be pitied. Overshadowed by her brilliant, beautiful, magical sister. It's not an excuse for how she treated Harry, but it's still a reason. People are not perfect. In fact, they're characteristically scared and angry and selfish and Lily wishes she could tell people this. In a way, she sometimes feels that James and even Albus got off more lightly then she did, because nobody ever called James Potter perfect. Albus Dumbledore, too, was flawed, but both of them are still heroes. Lily wishes people could understand that she isn't perfect and despite how hard she tries, she never will be.

So she gives up.

One evening, shortly before she turns eleven, she is suddenly so angry with herself that she gets up (ignoring the bickering from her brother's, which is uncommon for her) and walks into the kitchen and grabs a pair of scissors.

Shutting herself in the bathroom, Lily looks over herself in the mirror.

She doesn't have her grandmother's eyes. Only Albus has inherited the famous Potter eyes, and for that, she is immensely grateful. But she does have the trademark red hair, and it makes her sick.

Lifting up the scissors, she lifts up one of her almost waist-length strands and makes an angled snip.

She doesn't feel a thing.

Giggling slightly with the giddy thrill of doing something so rebellious and yet so simple, she lifts up another lock and chops at that one too. When she lets go, the hair swings back to frame her face on either side, making her slightly round face look different, framed in red.

Lily carries on cutting, her bottled up anger pouring up with each cut. She's amazed to see how much hair she seems to have, and wonders why she's never thought to cut it like this before. It feels so good she wants to cry with relief.

Soon, there is so much hair at her feet that she looks like she has snakes curled up around her legs. Looking in the mirror, Lily smiles at the messy, raggedy bob that just brushes at her shoulders, her fringe crooked and the tips uneven.

Her mother is absolutely furious when she sees it, but Lily screams when Ginny attempts to fix it with her wand.

_No! Leave it alone, mum. I like it this way, it looked so babyish long._

Her mother is baffled, but Lily knows that even if she does grow it back magically, Lily will just go back and chop it all off again. She's pretty sure there isn't a spell for making your hair invulnerable to scissors, after all. It makes her look different from her mother, too, who has retained her long, flame-colored locks (albeit streaked with grey) into adulthood. Lily isn't fiery and passionate like Ginny, and she knows everyone expects her to be.

It's not fair.

Her brothers tease her about her hair, but it soon becomes apparent that as ridiculous as it looks, Lily is proud of it, and she even maintains it when it grows a couple of inches. When she finally hits eleven and boards the Hogwarts express, she hears other children laughing at her and she laughs along with them. She is happy to be noticed for something other than her parents.

When she gets older, she finally grows out the crooked fringe and uneven length, as her hair darkens to a warm brunette shade. She insists on being called an amalgamation of her two names- Lily Luna becomes Lina, and she refuses to answer to her first name if anybody forgets. Luna doesn't bother her so much- nobody has ever accused her Aunt Luna of being perfect, and the truth is, Lily admires her, because Luna Lovegood-Scamander has never cared about what anybody thinks of her, and Lily thinks that makes her one of the bravest people that she knows. And it was Luna who explained something to Lily that she had never thought of.

"Lilies are the flowers of death and rebirth, you know." Luna had told her serenely, a long time ago, her blonde hair dyed a brilliant gold in the sun. "That's why you always seem to see them at funerals."

_Rebirth..._

Flicking her raggedy hair off her shoulders, Lily looks out at the evening sky as the Hogwarts Express chugs resolutely onwards and reflects that sometimes, really, being alive is one of the only things we can do. Sometimes, it's all you can do to take each day as it comes and to not let yourself be swallowed up whole, by both life and death.

_That was the thing about flowers_, Lily thought, as the castle loomed into view and her stomach twisted in anticipation. _No matter how many times they wither and die...another will grow in its place. Bigger and more beautiful than before._

When she steps off the train, a bittersweet smile crosses her face.

_Sometimes._

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><p>This is a slightly downbeat ending (not as much as Teddy's, but still) but it's honestly a lot cheerier then what I originally had planned. Heh. Anyways, if you have a request, please let me know!<p> 


	4. Fred Weasley

I'm not entirely sure where this chapter came from, all I know is that I started writing it and suddenly, it just started flowing pretty well. Fred jr. isn't menationed directly in the books, but I think he appears on the Weasley family tree somewhere, along with his twin Roxanne, and I couldn't help but think it's kind of...odd to name your child after a dead sibling. I guess it's an "honouring their memory" thing, but I also think it might not be so conducive for said child. So here's my take on little Fred. (I will probably do Roxie after, unless somebody asks for another kid.)

Enjoy!

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><p>He's nothing like his namesake.<p>

Fred Wesley is a quiet boy. He didn't say his first word until he was nearly three. His father was convinced there was something wrong with him, but even after countless Doctor's appointments, they just concluded he was a slow developer and left it at that. Angelina said that they just needed to let him go at his own pace; they had thought nothing of it when Roxie spoke much earlier than most children her age. And so, they drop the subject.

But still.

The only person Fred can really talk to besides Roxie is his pet turtle, Alistair. To Alistair, he whispers his innermost secrets as the tiny reptile swims around his bowl. It's relaxing to watch him, watch the assorted greenery sway hypnotically underwater.

Alistair is the only one who knows how much Fred hates his name.

He can't say this, and sometimes he wonders if this burden of wearing his deceased uncle's names around his shoulders like a dead weight killed any sense of identity off immediately. Of course, some people might argue that it's just a name, that it doesn't define who you are.

There is no way to change what family you were born into, however. And Fred cannot shake the feeling that who he is just isn't good enough. He isn't the old Fred, and sometimes he cannot even speak when his father is in the room, because even at a very young age, Fred feels like he's always letting everyone down. They have a legend built in their minds, and he's just a little kid.

He wishes he was lucky like his sister; thanks to their mother, she does not have the traditional Wesley coloring, and instead her hair is a wild mass of chocolate brown, her skin color rendering any freckles invisible. Fred's hair is more chestnut then red, his eyes are brown, but he wishes that he looked more like his sister. The fact that he happens to be a twin only slightly diminishes this feeling; Roxie has enough personality for two people, and Fred is grateful that he has her to stand behind as she approaches things with wit, spirit and daring. Fred may be a Wesley, but he isn't sure he possesses any of these things.

What he doesn't know is, George sees so much of himself in Fred it worries him. It's not disappointment he sees- it's anxiety. Worry that he'll get pushed into doing things he's not sure is right, just like he was. George Wesley knows his twin brother wasn't perfect, and he certainly doesn't expect his children to be either. Being perfect seems like a lonely way to live.

If only father and son could find the words.

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><p>Probably the shortesr chapter yet, but I kind of like it this way. :) Thanks for checking it out.<p> 


	5. Molly Weasley

So it's been a while since I updated this. Originally I was intending to do Roxy, but for some reason, Molly jumped out at me instead. I don't think this will be as viewed a chapter as the others, because Molly is Percy's daughter and people don't seem as interested in Percy as the others. But I think the reformed black-sheep of the family is kind of an intruiging concept.

Enjoy!

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><p>Molly Weasley had always been a mature child. Perhaps that's what caused her to, as her mother put it, act out.<p>

Having parents like Percy and Audrey Weasley isn't easy. Even from a young age, there was a word associated with her father for Molly: Workaholic.

For a long time, she didn't even know what it meant, but it was what popped into her mind as she saw her father arrive home late again, or scribbling away on roll after roll of parchment. That wasn't to say he wasn't loving in his own stiff-upper lip way, but compared to her rambunctious and numerous cousins, Molly herself has never felt particularly childlike. It sometimes was harder for her to relate to her extended family because of this. She looked up to Victoire, who was so beautiful it sometimes made Molly ache to look at her, but Victoire was older, sophisticated and somewhat on the aloof side. She is on good terms with Fred, but again, Molly's precociousness holds her back. Dominque, Roxy, Rose, Hugo and Lily (or Lina, as she insists on being called these days) are a noisy bunch. Even her little sister has a certain amount of childish innocence that confuses Molly.

The fact she is also named after the legendary Molly Weasley, the sister of the Prewitt brothers and slayer of the Dark wizard Voldemort's right-hand woman rather puts her at a disadvantage. Her cousin Fred understands how this feels, at least, and James, Albus and Lily are in the same boat. Lucy is named after their maternal grandmother, but she isn't a legend and Lucy is a rather versatile name.

Molly, meanwhile, balks at being referred to as little Molly, or Molly 2, or Molly Junior. She admires her grandmother a lot, certainly, but she doesn't want to be a little clone. At least her cousins are named in memory of fallen wizards and witches, but Molly has long suspected that her own name as an offering, a gesture of goodwill to soothe past wounds inflicted by Percy's ambition and her grandparent's unconventional views. Molly does not particularly want to be a peace offering, even though really, Molly was once just an affectionate nickname. Molly thinks Mary is almost as bad- the plain, simplistic purity of a name like that doesn't suit her at all. She doesn't resent her parents so much as she objects at being a symbol for something, instead of a girl.

So when she gets on the train for Hogwarts for the first time and somebody asks for her name, she smiles as wide as she can.

"Maria."

At Hogwarts, she is free to rebel a little. People expect Weasleys to be a little rambunctious, just like their parents were before them, but Percy Weasley's daughter causes raised eyebrows with her penchance for mischief. Her eyes sparkle as she giggles and people shout, "Ria!" in howls of frustration or between fits of mirth. It makes her feel good.

"Are you sure she's not your child?" Percy asks his little brother with a sigh.

George smirks.

"Could be worse, Perce. She could take after you."

It would sound harsher if it came from anybody other then George, who says it with a little twist of his lips and a gleam in his eyes that is very familiar. When Molly hears the exchange, she throws back her head and laughs, auburn curls bouncing, her face lit up with mirth.

It feels good to laugh.


	6. Roxanne Weasley

Hello again! This chapter is a little more upbeat than the others. It took an unexpected direction, but I like it. I seem to have broken the girl-boy-girl pattern...but with more boys than girls, this was inevitable, I guess. I didn't mean to, I just write what comes to me. Incidentally, if you know of any more Next Gen kids, let me know. I know the Weasleym, Potter, Malfoy and Luna's kids, but that seems to be it. I know some people have their own headcanons about other characters, though.

Enjoy!

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><p>Roxanne Weasley has never had a problem with telling people what she thinks.<p>

Her parents have lectured her repeatedly about politeness and about sometimes what you say can hurt people's feelings. About how not everything needs to be said.

Roxanne fiercely promises herself that no matter how old she gets, she will never let anybody push her around, grind her down until her will and spirit are dust. If only she could implant some of this attitude into Fred. Fred, her shy, sweet twin who is different to her as night is to day. She wants to protect her brother, but often she isn't even sure what of. There are days when she feels like the world is just too loud for somebody like her twin.

Amongst her many cousins, Roxie always seems to be getting herself into scrapes and tangles, whether or not it's enthusiastic games of Quidditch with James, Dominique (she isn't particularly competitive, but she absolutely loves the sensation of flying.) She bickers with them too, especially Rose and often finds herself falling into the company of boys more often than not, just as wild and unrefined as they are. At school, she obsesses over the forbidden; The forest, Hogsmeade, the Whomping Willow. She doesn't always go sneaking out to these places; Roxie may be impulsive, but she's not a total fool. She's prone to excessive daydreams that have teachers demanding for her to _pay attention, Miss Weasley, please!_

Her Dad just finds this amusing, her mother tells her off, but Roxie can see the fight not to smile playing out on her face. Fred just gives her one of his signature little grins and goes back to his books or his pet turtle. Sometimes, Roxie wonders if parents and random flights of fantasy are all they have in common, but she laughs and hugs her brother anyway.

Truthfully, though, Roxanne just wants to do her own thing. Growing up with a fraternal twin, a family so large it's actually famous for it and being constantly surrounded by strong personalities makes her want to strike out alone. Like a balloon adrift, Roxie wants to explore what lies beyond.

Walking into the library, Roxie is contemplating another attempt to breach the Restricted Section when she catches sight of something that makes her breath catch.

An easy smile crosses an angular face, angelic blonde hair belying the playful blue-green of his eyes.

"If it isn't foxy Roxie," Lysander Scamander says, her name tripping easily off his tongue.

It's hard to tell if he's being sarcastic or not- he knows she hates that nickname, which first spawned from derision and is now a more sincere one, although either way it still feels degrading. She does consider him a friend, though, so it could simply be playful taunting.

Roxie pauses. She and Lysander share something in common- both of them are the polar opposite of their twin. While Roxie and Fred only bear some resemblance, Lorcan and Lysander are often tricky to distinguish individually by looks. But while Lorcan is something of an intellectual and a show-off, Lysander is a notorious lothario, as well as mischievous. Both the Potter children, Rose and Hugo have known the Scamander twins since birth, Roxie's interactions with Lysander have been limited mostly to school term. Each time they do meet, she always walks away feeling flustered and confused and she isn't sure why.

"Shut up, Lysander."

Lysander laughs, a musical noise to her ears, and Roxie has to fight not to grin too much at him. It might encourage him to think she thinks he's funny or something.

As she vanishes behind rows upon rows of books, Roxie reflects that while she has always been a free spirit at heart, Lysander is somehow light years ahead of her.

Roxie grins.

It looks like she's found a new partner in crime.


	7. Hugo Weasley

Whoops, sorta forgot about this fic as the summer ended, didn't I? XD But there are still quite a few chapters to go, yet, so I'm determined to see this one to the end! (Aw, no love for Roxie?) It took me a while to settle on which character to do, but eventually I settled on Hugo. (I wanted to give him the middle name of Hermione's father, but since we don't know what that is, I had to scrap that idea.)

Enjoy!

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><p>Hugo is definitely a Weasley.<p>

Although Rosie is the one who has inherited her mother's intellect and her father's stubborn streak, it is often remarked upon that he very much takes after his paternal grandfather. Rose is ambitious in her own peculiar way, but Hugo often finds himself playing peacekeeper when he's with his mass-numbered cousins during family get-togethers. He's a calm boy, which makes him a somewhat stabilizing influence on his more volatile family members. It's been this way since he was young, which is strange when he thinks about it.

But it makes sense.

Because if there is one thing that shakes Hugo down to his very core, it's the idea of his family falling apart or breaking somehow. He has heard of stories of his uncles fighting, of friends turning against each other in the dark times of his parent's past, and it scares him. Hugo likes stability, the secure knowledge that no matter how bad things may seem at the time, everything will be all right in the end. His cousins are a myriad of personalities, all vying for individuality and attention, but Hugo quite likes being ordinary. It's something he can depend upon. He wonders if this practicality also stems from the fact he has Muggle grandparents, whom he loves just as dearly as he does his wizarding relatives. His mother was insistent that her children didn't grow up ignorant of non-magic people like Ron did, and Ron, surprisingly, agreed with her.

"Well, that's how prejudice starts, I s'pose," he had said, obviously recalling things gone by but not forgotten. "Not knowing anything about each other."

It's a secret that only Hugo knows, but when he was little, he used to worry about being a Squib. Growing up in a family full of talented people makes you worry about what you have to offer and Hugo's magic came later than was the norm. Especially when you took a look at his parents, his father, Ron Weasley, being from one of the largest, oldest wizarding families, and his mother, Hermione Granger, possibly the brightest witch of her generation, from a Muggle family…who was to say he, Hugo, might not end up the reverse? A non-magic child, from a Weasley father and a Muggle-born mother. Like a damp spot in the middle of a fire.

But hanging out with his grandparents, he's ashamed he was ever so afraid. Magic is a wonderful thing, but, as Hugo is discovering, there is more than one way for it to manifest. And so, even with doubts in his head about where he might end up in Hogwarts- something he and Lily discuss frequently, and at length, in truth, when he repeats the mantra in his head, it starts to not matter so much. When Rose is sorted into Ravenclaw, Ron tries to hide his shock, and Hugo almost wants to laugh. You'd think after everything he had seen, what house his child was sorted into wouldn't matter so much.

"Oh, honestly, Ron, stop being so melodramatic." Hermione says, clicking her tongue as her husband scans the letter sent by his daughter.

"I am _not._" Pouts Ron, looking remarkably like an eleven-year-old, despite his stubble. He glances at the chessboard sitting between himself and Hugo across the breakfast table.

(Hermione is usually too busy to play chess, and Rose doesn't like to play games that she knows in advance she won't win.)

Hugo smiles wryly. Typical Rose, has to do everything her own way and make a point about it. He doesn't doubt that she probably ordered the hat to put her somewhere else. He nudges forward a knight without paying too much attention.

In a year's time, he will be a Hogwarts student, too. His talent- whatever it is- will make itself apparent in one way or another, and if there's anywhere that it will happen, it's Hogwarts.

He is content to wait.

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><p>Personally, I think Hugo would be a good Hufflepuff.<p>

As usual, reviews would be appreciated.


	8. Albus Potter

Amulet again!

This was actually going to be James' chapter, but I wasn't getting much inspiration for it, then this happened. I'll be honest, out of all the Next Gen kids, I find the Potter kids to be the least interesting. They just come off as miniature versions of their parents to me, but I wanted to do something a little different for Albus.

Enjoy!

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><p>Sun and Moon.<p>

Yin and Yang.

Fire and Water.

It was a total cliché, but Albus always felt overshadowed by James Potter. It was pretty much destined to happen since the day he was born. The Wizarding World was in an uproar when it was announced that Harry Potter and his wife were expecting their first child. Daily Prophet reporters staked out the Potter doorstep for weeks, no matter how many charms were cast to dissuade them from doing so. Like some kind of Royalty (perhaps to make up for the lack of real ones), Harry and Ginny stood on the front porch, James gurgling in Ginny's arms. They awkwardly smiled in the blinding flashes, hoping that this would be like ripping off a plaster- painful, but quick.

However, although the initial Baby Hype did die down somewhat, the Potter children have all been in the spotlight since before they were born. And each of them reacted to it differently; for James, he learnt to thrive on the attention. By contrast, people were less exciting about the second Potter Baby, but even so, Albus was aware of the stares and the pointing and he could never get used to it. He would do his best to hide beneath his fringe, ducking his head down, because people were always curious about the famous Potter eyes. Albus' first unconscious use of magic was to vanish into thin air, even his clothing disappeared. It took his parents over an hour to figure out what had happened to their son and then find him.

By the time Lily was due, Albus, although still very young, had the vain hope that maybe people would get bored of the Potters and he wouldn't have to put up with being gazed at by strangers anymore. But he had not counted on the hysteria over a Potter Girl, which was apparently not as exciting as the coveted position of firstborn, but still more interesting than the second boy. He knows that he shouldn't pay so much attention to what total strangers think. The Press is a fickle creature, and he is making problems worse for himself, but he can't help how he feels.

James teasing him endlessly over the possibility of being in Slytherin doesn't help. James, of course, ended up in Gryffindor, just like everybody expected him to. The idea of being in Slytherin makes Albus strangely afraid, as if this will confirm everything that is wrong with him. It is strange that Albus Severus is named after two famous Wizards, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, yet neither identity feels right to him. Like the two are pulling him in opposite directions.

Albus stares out of the window, the endless chatter somehow not really registering to him, as if he is protected by a wall that absorbs the words, leaving them as meaningless murmurs around him.

"Al?"

Rose tilts her head at him.

"Are you all right?"

Albus nods, but Rose knows him too well.

"You're worried about the Sorting, aren't you?"

Albus blinks up at her.

"Rose, does it count as a Sorting if you can just tell the Hat where you want to go? What if it puts you in a house you don't belong in, just because you ask it to?"

Rose smiles slightly, leaning back into the seat.

"Well, there's no way of knowing where you really belong until you see everything for yourself, is there? Don't let your brother get to you so much."

Albus thinks about that as they climb unsteadily into the boats that will carry them across the lake, to their future. He feels as though these tiny vessels will be too fragile for the job, but they follow the path to Hogwarts steadily. He thinks he sees a flicker beneath the water, but the Giant Squid doesn't interrupt their journey.

He is barely listening to the teacher telling them about the Sorting; he just keeps his eyes firmly ahead, unblinking, as the doors to the great Hall open.

Albus takes a deep breath, glances at Rose, who nods at him.

Together, they walk through the doorway.


End file.
